The contrast in Van’s unbridled passion versus this gentler caretaker was as different as night was to day. And yet as I leaned back on my arms as he prompted and he cleaned the evidence of this recent encounter, I had the revelation that Donovan Sherman wasn’t one man who I could learn about in a few days. There were too many sides to him. The mysteries wouldn’t go away, but with time, maybe I’d learn the secrets they kept buried.

Once Van was satisfied, he helped me off the counter and proceeded to clean the cool granite.

My large sweater hung to the middle of my thighs. After retrieving my socks, panties, and pants, I stood and my gaze met Van’s. “Is there any sense in putting these back on?”

His smile warmed something within me. “That’s up to you. I don’t mind taking them off again.”

I scanned him from his dark mane to his shiny shoes. “You’re still completely dressed.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I mean, I like looking at you when you’re—” I was going to say naked, but honestly, Van was sexy no matter what.

“When I’m...?”

Leaving my clothes on one of the stools, I went to him, wrapping my arms around his torso and looked up. “That was hot.” Warmth filled my cheeks. “I like looking at you. Period. That’s the end of my sentence, Van. I find you attractive in these clothes, your mountain-man clothes, and no clothes at all.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I believe dinner was next on our agenda.”

I smiled. He had said ‘fucking, dinner, more fucking, then calls.’

“I can warm up one of Mrs. Mayhand’s dinners,” I volunteered. “I was about to do that when you came home.”

Van handed me my glass of wine. “Sit, beautiful. I like taking care of you.”

21. Julia

Julia

“Is everything all right?” my mother asked. “Are you on your way home? Do you need our help?”

I inhaled as I sat straighter, my phone in hand. While Van had gone to his office to call his press secretary, I’d stayed in my suite. We’d maintained the schedule Van had stated earlier in the evening—fucking, dinner, and more fucking. The second round was in my suite, in my bed. Now, after enough time to gather my breath and clean up, wearing only a robe, I stepped from the bedroom and into the sitting room with my phone in hand.

“Mom, please get Dad. I want to talk to both of you.”

“Julia, tell me,” she pursued, “is this something bad?”

“No.” I shook my head, trying to believe my own words.

What I was about to tell them wasn’t bad.

It was a shock.

“Please get Dad,” I repeated.

“I’m here,” he said.

“You’re on speaker,” Mom added.